He cocked his head. “You’re not going to audition?”
“I told them yes, but I’m still thinkin’, if I’m bein’ honest.”
“Well, I don’t claim to know what’s happening in that gorgeous head of yours, but I can’t reckon why you’d turn this chance down. Last summer, I couldn’t go anywhere without hearing ‘Eighty Nights.’ They’re blowing up.”
“I don’t quite know either. I’m still workin’ it out.”
I sighed and took another drink. I’d figure this out, but it would take more than a mojito and five minutes to do it. A best friend talk was in order.
I flopped down on the couch next to Haven, her cat, Theodore, immediately making himself at home on my lap. I’d never liked cats until Theo had insisted I love him with all my heart. He’d gotten in my face and meowed until I could no longer resist him. I still thought of him as Haven’s cat, though. The man was high maintenance, and I didn’t have time for that, but he was my unofficial little furry child.
“Hello, lover,” Haven drawled.
“Hello, sugar britches.”
“How was your evening?”
“Oh, lovely as always. I took a moonlit stroll, danced like no one was watchin’, and rescued several orphans from the path of an oncoming train. You?”
“Not as exciting as yours. I ran away, joined the circus, was shot from a cannon ten times, and learned to tame lions and juggle knives before deciding I preferred my quiet life with you and Theo.”
A wide smile spread across my face. “So then you had to run awayfromthe circus?”
She scratched Theo’s head, grinning at me. “No, they’re cool. They let me go after one last swing on the flying trapeze.”
A wave of uncomplicated affection swept over me for the girl I’d met at my summer job in a coffee shop. Her then shiny black hair and matching black lipstick had drawn me in, but it was her effortless individuality and uncompromising kindness that kept me coming back.
“I can’t imagine leavin’ you and Theo.”
“Even to run away with a rock band?” she asked.
“Even then.”
“Gotta chase your dreams, peaches. You’d slap me if I ever thought about turning down a role—and you know it.”
“If it were a different band…” I didn’t want to finish my sentence—didn’t want to admit the true reason for my reticence.
“Are you seriously going to let Santiago Dick-booger Garza have any say in your decision making?”
Apparently I didn’t have to finish my sentences around here. Haven knew.
“He’s not havin’ any say. I just don’t know if I want to spend any amount of time in his presence. Lord knows we’ll have to have actual conversations with us both being the rhythm section. That is...if I even get chosen, which is a big ol’ question mark right now.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you still have feelings for him? Because I have to say, I got a peek at him last night, and the man is as gorgeous as ever.”
“I can admit he’s nice to look at. Always has been. But my little unrequited crush fell off somewhere around the time he hurt me down to my bones.”
Haven took her phone from beneath the pillow next to her and gave me a devious smile. “I’m glad to hear that, because I was doing a little research—”
“Research? Really?”
“I stand by what I said. Anyway, your boy, Santi, seems to be a bit of a manwhore.”
She shoved her phone under my nose, using her thumb to scroll through picture after picture of Santi with various women. Pretty women. Blonde, red, brunette, tall, short—all thin, all fine-boned, all looking happy to be on his arm. None of them looked a thing like me, but that was no surprise.
“Why do I need to see this?” I asked.
She took her phone back and tugged a lock of my hair. “I want you to see what kind of man he is. That what he said to you was a reflection of who he is.”